


And Many Marvels Were Begun

by Zdenka



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, nightingales - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25520647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zdenka/pseuds/Zdenka
Summary: Melian chooses a home for the first birds in Middle-earth.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11
Collections: Every Woman 2020





	And Many Marvels Were Begun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarSpray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpray/gifts).



Yavanna found Melian standing atop the Pelóri and gazing eastward towards Middle-earth. “Hail, cousin,” Yavanna said to her in thought.

Melian returned a greeting, conveying both affection and reverence. The brown and grey nightingales perched on her shoulders chirped their greeting to Yavanna as well, and Yavanna reached out to gently stroke their feathered heads.

“It seems your heart is no longer content in the gardens of Lórien,” Yavanna said lightly. “You would go into the Outer Lands—is it not so?”

Melian smiled. “You are right, my lady and cousin. My heart is impatient for the time when the things we saw in the Music will come to pass. If I cannot speed their coming, I can at least prepare the earth for them. And I long to meet the Children of Ilúvatar—all the more so since I cannot imagine their form.”

“Then go,” Yavanna said. “I will ask your leave from Estë and from Vána my sister. Many of my dear creatures and plants still lie asleep, and who can better tend them than one who serves Estë? I myself steal away to the Outer Lands from time to time and heal Melkor’s marring as best I can—let him not think that the earth is entirely his! The beasts and trees that suffer under the tooth and claw of his creatures cry out to me, and I will not leave them unanswered!”

“What would you have me do?”

Yavanna smiled in quiet satisfaction. “The time is near,” she said, “when the Children will awaken. Already Varda has mounted the heavens to kindle them with light! I hope soon we will make war on Melkor and drive him out, so the Children may have a safe nest to be hatched in. But I do not ask you to make war. Go through the Outer Lands; heal all the hurts you may, to tree and beast and land. And the great trees that still sleep—awaken them, their time has come, and Manwë’s promise to me will be fulfilled! Then let Melkor tremble to set foot in my forests.”

“What promise?” Melian asked with curiosity.

“That you will see in time! Or perhaps you will remember that part of the Song.” Melian saw that Yavanna wished to hide that part of her thought, and she asked no further. Yavanna continued, “I have one last task for you, if you will accept it.”

“I would not refuse any task you give me, cousin. What is it?”

“It is time for birds to fly in the Outer Lands, not only in the gardens of Valinor. Bring some of your nightingales, if you like—I think they will hardly be parted from you. Find the place that most delights you in Middle-earth, that is suited for their nest, and there let them flourish! Hallow it and hide it from Melkor’s eyes, so they may have a safe place to retreat to if threatened. And awake more of the worms and insects from sleep, so that the birds will be able to find food.”

Melian bowed, and then she burst into a flood of song, signifying that she accepted Yavanna’s charge.

The Outer Lands were dark and cool. Melian arrived in a swirl of silver mist and clothed herself in a body with physical substance. She opened her newly formed hands and released her birds to fly, if they wished to. These nightingales had been hatched and fledged in the gardens of Lórien, nurtured by Estë’s power and fed by Melian’s own hands; Melian herself had taught them to sing. They had never known fear or danger, and they had no hesitation in flying from tree to tree, cutting through the air of this land that was new to them. Their melodious chirps and trills accompanied Melian on her way.

She remembered Yavanna’s words and sang slow wakefulness to the great trees, undoing the spell of sleep that had been placed on them. She did not neglect to sing her songs of strengthening and healing for every tree and small plant, for every creature that darted quick through the underbrush.

There were many places that were beautiful in Middle-earth’s twilight, many that she could have chosen for her birds’ first nest in the Outer Lands. But none of them seemed right to her. As she wandered, she saw the heavens become brighter and brighter above her, lit with more and more stars, and she sang praise to Varda for her labors.

At last Melian came to a land of fragrant pines, still drowsing in Yavanna’s sleep. The land sloped upward, steep hills brushed with snow at the top and open to the winds. But further down, there was a moor scattered with ancient stones that had been dropped by a glacier in its slow creeping path, and in the midst was a shining pool of water. Melian stopped, seeing how the water glimmered with the reflections of the myriad stars. She suddenly knew the place must be here.

She stretched out her hands and sang, sending her power into land and water. The lake’s surface shivered and trembled, and the water gladly sang back to her. Melian hallowed that lake’s waters with her blessing so that no creature of Melkor could approach or find it, but would be turned away bewildered.

In twittering speech, she explained gently to her birds what she had done: that this was a new land where they could stretch their wings and fly, that there were dangers and things that might seek to harm them, but that they could always come back here for safety. And she taught them a song to teach to their chicks, so that their many-times descendants would not forget this refuge.

Some of the nightingales wished to stay and make their nests in this place, and others chose to wander with her a while yet. For those that would stay, she watched as they chose places for their nests in the low bushes, seeing that the birds found enough material to make nests and line them—and she gave a few of her own long dark hairs to be woven into the nests. She waited while they built their nests and laid their eggs, and while the young chicks grew inside the shell, and she sang to them and heard their quiet peeping. She waited until they hatched, and made sure the insects that had awakened were enough to feed the young ones—she even fed a few worms and bugs to them herself, dropping them carefully into the hatchlings’ open beaks. She waited while they grew, while feathers sprouted, while they tried their first clumsy flights. When the first brood was old enough to leave the nest, when they could fly and feed themselves on their own, she thought it was time to leave them. She would seek other places in Middle-earth where nightingales could prosper. She left the shining lake behind, and the nightingales that stayed sang to her in farewell.

Melian wandered south again through the drowsing pines and climbed the mountain ridge. There was a vast, almost tangible darkness clinging to the gorge below the mountains, shadowy places where the starlight could not pierce. Melian looked upon it grimly. Yavanna should know, if she did not already, that Ungoliant or some of her spawn were here. Melian wished to drive away that darkness and make the land clean, especially since the Children must soon awaken. But she knew, though reluctantly, that her power was not enough to attack and defeat Ungoliant alone. She turned away then, skirting the shadowed valley, and followed a small cold stream that flowed down the mountain. The stream gained strength as it went, fed by the rains and joined by other mountain streamlets; it was a proper river by the time it reached the lowlands. Melian sang as she went, joining her song to the stream’s own song, and wove power of resisting evil into its clear waters.

She went onward through the cool plains by the river, her birds flying about her. Whenever they became tired, she let them perch on her head or shoulders to rest a little while she continued walking. Secure in the shadows of her hair, they tucked their head under their wing to sleep, or sang a quiet song into the darkness. The grass was cool and soft beneath her feet, and Varda’s stars were spread in glory across the dome of the sky. Their song drifted down to her, and Melian sang in answer. Her birds joyfully added their own trills and harmonies.

As she walked, Melian often stopped to touch a great fern or a humble bush and sang the songs she had learned in the gardens of Estë, to heal the hurts made by gnawing teeth or small busy insects. She could hear the sleep-song of many things below the ground, flowers and many kinds of plants that had been laid to rest by Yavanna. _Rest,_ she sang to them, _rest still._ She hoped the time would come soon when that life could awaken, raise their heads above the earth and spread their leaves to drink in the light.

Melian had no set destination in mind; she simply wandered, listening to the echo of the first great Song in all things. As she came to the edge of the plain, she could see a shadowy grove to the east across another river. She thought her nightingales might like such a place for their nests, but more than that something in it called to her—as if it recalled something in the Song that had been very dear to her, that she had heard and then forgotten when she came into Arda. She passed through the river’s waters, her long hair trailing after her. The river-currents greeted her with laughter, lightly touched her and let her go again.

Up the riverbank on the far side, and into the grove—

Melian went singing under the branches of what would one day be called Nan Elmoth, her birds singing and fluttering around her; and there she met Elwë and chose to stay with him in Middle-earth, and she came not back to Valinor for uncounted years of the World.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the _Lay of Leithian_.
> 
> Melian "was akin before the World was made to Yavanna herself," whatever that means to the Ainur. "Cousin" isn’t meant to be literal, but a translation of whatever term they would use (and I’m not sure if it would even necessarily make sense to human brains).
> 
> Birds seem to have been relatively late arrivals to Middle-earth. There were no birds during the time of the Lamps: "As yet no flower had bloomed nor any bird had sung, for these things waited still their time in the bosom of Yavanna." ("Of the Beginning of Days") It’s implied in the _Silmarillion_ that Melian’s nightingales were the first birds in Middle-earth: "and there she filled the silence of Middle-earth before the dawn with her voice and the voices of her birds" ("Of Thingol and Melian"). If you take the HOME volumes as canon, it’s mentioned in the _Lay of Leithian_ that the birds of Melian were "the first to sing in mortal lands." I just thought it was interesting!
> 
> The lake that Melian hallows is Tarn Aeluin, where Barahir's outlaws later took refuge.


End file.
